Slow Wine

Slow Wine It's been three years since that plane departed Miami. They landed in Madrid, Spain, and spent several days in Seville and Ibiza before taking another flight as Mr. and Mrs. Devereux to Brussels. After spending three days sampling some of the world's finest champagne and chocolates, it was off to Trinidad and Tobago. They landed in Trinidad on a Thursday, armed with the few belongings they were allowed to keep. For her, it was her mother's necklace—not worth much on the open market, but it meant the world to her. "It even smells like Mom," she thought. For him, it was his grandfather's Lord Elgin watch, elegant in design and timeless. If they were forced to sell it, they could probably get $500 USD for it. To him, it was a connection to the family he left behind and, for their sake, a reminder that there wasn’t a minute to waste. In three years, he hadn’t had to sell that watch, and she kept her mom's necklace. They'd actually thrived. They moved on from Trinidad and settled into a life on a lovely little island named Antigua. They’d been together. He made his living as a day trader, while she kept busy taking care of the education of local children. If a child didn’t know how to read, she taught them to read. If a child had no food, she fed them. Most nights, they traveled to a small bar near their villa to watch game shows, drink, and dance with the locals. On weekends, they traveled to other islands they considered safe, sometimes on foot but often by plane. They didn’t stop. They adopted three dogs—one rescued from a shelter and two imported from Europe. They still hadn’t seriously discussed having children, but she hadn’t dismissed the notion. She had him all to herself, and he seemed content, but she feared he was growing restless. She wondered if he needed a change. She held these feelings inside for a while, scared to broach the subject. Still, there were moments when she sensed his restlessness. Once, he snapped at her because she drank the last can of his favorite drink—something he usually wouldn’t mind. Typically, he'd relish the idea of jumping on his bike and heading to the store, but on this day, he became upset. She couldn't help but feel that he was tired of her, tired of the life they'd built together. She questioned whether their decision to run away together had been impulsive. If only she could find the right words to ask: “Am I losing you to thoughts of another?” Maybe, she thought, she could be proactive and recruit a third person for them. She was still attracted to other women, though she enjoyed having him all to herself. Perhaps it was time to share. She had known his nature from the beginning—he had been brutally honest from the start. After all, they had a wonderful time with that one tourist girl after a wild night at the casino. She knew he loved her, but maybe, just maybe, it was time for something new. He stared at the computer screen as if his gaze could change the data. It wouldn’t change, not today. The truth was, he could go to the beach and come back, and the data would largely be the same. They used to spend more time outdoors—on islands, beaches, at museums, or tourist spots. Now, though, everything felt monotonous, stale. He knew his frustration was manifesting in ways he never intended. This wasn’t her fault. He needed something, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The wolf inside him needed to hunt, needed to thrive, to grow. He thought maybe they could buy the local bar or some small business. He wasn’t sure, but he knew he couldn’t keep taking it out on her. Pushing himself from the gray and black computer screen, he began to think. The sun was hot overhead that midday. He found her in the villa's courtyard, laughing and playing with kids and their three dogs, including the half-blind, arthritic rescue dog. It was so like her to love unconditionally what others saw as a burden. Now, she was teaching the neighborhood kids to do the same. He didn’t want to stop their fun, so he whispered in her ear, "Meet me at the Jeep in 30 minutes." She felt the warmth of his breath and smiled, turning toward him, closing her eyes, and nodding softly. When she made her way to the 1971 Ford Bronco, he was seated in the driver’s seat, the radio playing local calypso, and a bag of blankets set on the back seat. She giggled silently. "The beach, yeah?" He said nothing, just smiled a little and moved the truck into gear—they were off. The island was much smaller than the neighborhood he grew up in back in Chicago, yet it was now their entire world. They drove along the coastline, passing homes built into cliffs, the sound of waves crashing against the rocks. The sun was directly overhead. They came upon a farmer's market and decided to stop. They sampled fresh tomatoes for salsa, melon for breakfast, and he bought hops and barley for brewing beer. Everything was packed into the Bronco, and off they went. She felt a bit peckish under the sun but tried to tough it out. Eventually, she reached into the bag he'd packed for water. She would surely feel better soon, so they continued for a bit until they came upon an exhibit of an old British warship. The island, after all, was a British colony years ago before its independence. They were the only two attending the exhibit, so they walked through the small bulkheads, ducking as they made their way from the mess hall to the control room. He held her hand and reminded her to lower her head. They read little signs explaining the ship's seemingly ancient gear. She teased, "Is this the kind of stuff you used to do in the army?" She knew full well he was in the Air Force, not the army, and that this would annoy him. She smiled, and he grabbed her by the waist and kissed her deeply. "Oh, I’ll show you what I used to do in the military," he said. She welcomed his embrace and saluted playfully, saying, "Aye, Captain." They both felt the tension rising, but she couldn’t shake the queasiness from earlier. She grabbed his hand and led him out of the confined space, which had started to make her feel claustrophobic. He was confused—this was usually the kind of moment they wouldn’t pass up. Making love on a warship wasn’t exactly conventional, but it would have made for a nice memory. Still, he let her lead him out without protest. They drove around a bit longer before he asked if she wanted to go to the beach. She said she was feeling tired, so he decided the day was over and they headed for home. Before returning to the villa, he stopped at a store. He wanted a drink—the day hadn’t exactly gone as planned. The last leg of the ride had mostly been spent in silence. He parked the Jeep and went to open her door. She followed him closely but stopped as they approached the entrance. He felt the tug of her grip and turned as she threw herself into his arms. "I’m sorry, honey, I just feel... I don’t know, kind of sick, but I’m not sure." He kissed her forehead. "It’s okay, babe. Let’s just have a drink and watch the sunset. We can climb up to the roof of the villa," he said. She gave a faint smile. As they approached the store, he held the door for an elderly woman. It was mid-summer, about 82°F, and she was wearing a pretty yellow polka-dot dress and a black crochet shawl. She smiled directly at them and said, "Thank you, dear. You’re going to make wonderful parents." The two of them said in unison, "Thank you," and laughed, shaking their heads. Sometimes, no more words were needed. At home, they fed the dogs, checked the mail, and he shut down the laptop. She swept the villa floor, and he announced he was going to walk the dogs and asked if she still wanted to watch the sunset. "Sure," she said. He told her he’d be back in 10 minutes. He called for her again. She answered from the direction of the bathroom. He asked if she was alright. She answered weakly, but he didn’t want to make a fuss. He made the drinks and headed up to the roof via the skylight ladder, their usual access point. He always carried the drinks while she grabbed a blanket. But this time, she wasn’t following. He called for her again, this time a little irritated. She apologized, "Sorry, honey, give me five minutes." His blood pressure lowered, but a million little things ran through his mind. What was he going to do? Would he continue to day trade? Was this the right island? Did he want a new car? Should they buy a business or another house? Finally, she arrived, looking like she’d just seen a ghost but smiling. He had no clue what was on her mind. She sat next to him and said the four words he hated most: "We need to talk." No good conversation ever started with those words. "What the fuck," he thought to himself. Out loud, he calmly asked, "About what?" She didn’t know where to begin. She just knew that holding her feelings in had sucked. "Honey, how do you feel about us having a third person in our family?" He looked confused, surprised, and even a little annoyed before saying, "Babe, I haven’t thought about that in ages. It’s just not on my mind. Besides, who knows how long it would take to find someone compatible, someone we could trust." She stopped him. "It’s going to take about nine months, I guess." He stared at her incredulously. "What?" And then it hit him—the sickness, the time in the bathroom, the restlessness. Change was coming, just not the kind either of them had thought about. He poured the drinks down the gutter and held her in his arms. They kissed through tears of joy, proving that life has a way of throwing even the best-laid plans into flux.

French Toast

Although she’d moved further away from my native Chicago in terms of miles, I felt as if we’d never been closer. Though Arkansas is closer to Illinois, the plane fare was about $200 per trip cheaper to fly from her new home in Tampa, FL. Not to mention that since my release from prison, I was finally emotionally available to her. Things were not perfect; we still didn’t have a plan to live in the same state, yet I still struggled to rebuild my lost empire. We at least learned to give and receive love as best we could, and we were uninhabited.
Before my arrest, I was literally boxed in, and I had no idea where life was taking me. The tenuous routine of my life made seeing past the next day impossible. That meant that giving and receiving love, pleasure, or even hope became an arduous task. A man who once lived like an urban prince was reduced to seeing the world through a keyhole. My natural romantic nature died. My generous heart is paralyzed.
She called me honey, but I was not always deserving of that title. In the past, I had let her down many times. Still, my feelings for her were strong, and I made sure she knew I expected nothing of her; I only wanted to stay in touch and hear of her growth, her progress. I did not care if that meant she took another lover, that she would marry; all that I wanted was for her to be happy. If it meant that, we would never be lovers again, so be it, and it would not change the fact that I loved her. Such a big heart! I called her mahogany; she was my chocolate panda bear, so sweet! I wanted her to remain in my life even though I was incarcerated, yet I didn’t want to own or possess her. I have a dominant personality, but I don’t want to demand submission; I wanted her to do so voluntarily. This desire was born of the knowledge that, given the time, I could truly please her.
Before I left, nothing fit. My life didn’t fit, my clothes didn’t fit, my house didn’t fit, nothing fit! Therefore, when I was released, my first order of business was to search for proper fits, things that made me feel whole once again.
My business was no longer geared to earn profit simply for profit's sake. In fact, my main business was nonprofit. A company that bridges the public and private partnership. I made money in ways that left me feeling good. I also changed my surroundings; I no longer lived downtown. I bought a live/work space in one of the neighborhoods. Instead of a cramped flat in some high-rise, I purchased a duplex with living quarters on the second floor and about 1500 square feet of office space on the first floor. My daily uniform was no longer khakis, but also not a $2000 suits anymore. I settled into wearing jeans and a blazer with casual shoes. Things fit.
My mahogany came to visit sometimes. Things were not always comfortable or easy; we needed to learn, to remember, to accept. Funny thing is, I was always the polyamorous one, the free love, the more love advocate. However, I had no connections at this time. I spent most of my time helping homeless vets find housing or working on social justice initiatives. She was not so unencumbered. I couldn’t expect her to be honest. She was young, gorgeous, and had a great personality. Why wouldn’t others see what I saw? I was not jealous; I was curious, curious to see how the attention and affection would affect her. I was interested to know if it would all change how she saw me, that is. All I knew was that she deserved it all. I didn’t push, pull, or even cajole; I waited. When she longed to feel my arm around her or needed to taste my cooking, she knew I would be there. Having a front-row seat to others' growth without impinging on that person’s space is like watching up close through a two-way mirror.
Mahogany called. She said she wanted to see me. I told her things were a bit hectic and that my schedule had picked up; I couldn’t be available immediately, as I have been since my release. She takes kindly to this. As was her nature, she became frustrated and a bit agitated, though she didn’t show it at first. A week later, her tone with me became pouty, and she whined a bit. I told her “panda bear, you live as you wish 360 days of the year, I never complain, you cant expect total access to me all the time! Cant you just be with your other lover until things settle here?” she was quiet, then she replied, “What I want right now I can only get from you, never mind, I’ll be alright”.Then it accrued to me-duh! She wanted home, something that felt like home. Different lovers can be a great thing, even useful. Yet, there is always a home. That someone is more than just a lover. Someone who, even when words are not spoken, when things are not perfect, you know you belong there. Mahogany was trying to submit to me; I just had to be smart enough to accept it, to trust it.
My steadfastness relented, after all, what was I doing so important that I couldn’t do it with her in my presence? Nothing! So I said to her, “Look, I want to see, I want you here… but I want something in return. I could feel her mood change; I could see her smile widen through the phone, and we were not face-timing. I could feel her spirit brighten. I continued, “Ha ha, I know what you’re thinking. Yes. I want that too, but what I like even more is your complete trust. Please put yourself in my hands. Give me complete control while you’re here.
“ Ha ha complete control. What does that even mean?” Mahogany said this half-curious, half-afraid. “It means exactly what the words imply. I say, you do,” I replied. She replied, “Ok, I’m down. I did not say much more; I tried not to, after all, that was all the consent I needed. More talking could only fuck things up for me; it was good to leave her guessing a bit. Besides, I had no actual plans. I only knew I needed to seize control, to be dominant.
I picked mahogany up from the airport, as usual, on the train. Since we first met, this is the way we have always done it. That first ride to my place was filled with anxiety- sexual tension that could only be cut with a chainsaw! I could almost hear her getting wet from her seat opposite mine, though I couldn’t concentrate on that because I was trying to hide my erection from the rest of the travelers. Before we set her bags down in my apartment, I had her maxi dress raised, and my throbbing dick was buried inside her. I could wait no longer. I nearly blacked out from the relief of feeling her soft, wet warmth wrapped around me.
This trip was a little different; I wanted her no less, but the anticipation wasn’t killing me this time. This time I relished it! She was now a veteran of the Chicago L system, and because we had no bags, I told her not to pack a stitch; we stood the entire ride. Laughing, smiling, holding hands, and pointing to all the neighborhoods my non-profit was involved with. She could see how proud I was of the work I was doing. This was in stark contrast with the sheer disdain she saw on my face as I got up at 5 am and did not return before 6 pm, previously for a company that was just as doomed as I was. No more, though. We rode and talked of new beginnings as our stop approached.
Mahogany stepped into my ready and complete space, she was amazed at how I transformed that once commercial space into a livable loft, enough space to get lost in, not at all tight and stuffy as my previous condos. Though there was no door attendant or pool, this was truly a home. The office space below wasn’t quite finished, but she could see the progress.
As we entered the bedroom, she saw some La Perla lingerie lying across the bed. She playfully asked, “Oh, who’s that for?” I smiled deeply and said, “I don’t know yet. Confused, she didn’t question too deeply; she put down the few things she brought along. I asked if she wanted a drink or anything, and she said she was hungry. I told her she couldn’t have a full meal yet, as I had dinner plans for us later. I fixed us a couple of vodkas with botanicals and passion fruit, rounded out with a sprig of thyme. We had a bit of sliced fruit, and I then pulled her off the couch and told her we had an appointment.
I still didn’t own a car and hadn’t really decided whether I wanted to buy one. I often just rented them by the hour or the day, and had done so this evening.
Our first stop was a friend’s boutique. I knew how particularly mahogany was about buying clothes. She’d always had her own sense of style- off the racks was excellent for her, this trip was about being comfortable, it was about pushing boundaries, about submitting to my will and trusting.
My friend Anistasia closed her near southside boutique early for this private showing. I had previously picked out several dresses that I thought would appeal to Mahogany, but that she would never buy because they were’nt‘practical’. Two were examples of the classic ‘little black dress’; another was a more elegant long black wrap dress; a red silk party number; and, finally, a flower-patterned salsa dancing number. There are four pairs of shoes: one black pair of high-heeled pumps, one pair of sandaled sling back with faux diamond-studded straps, one classic neebuck low heel, and finally a pair of flat spectacles- classicblack and white. There were three handbags: a classic Louis Vuitton, a small black Chanel clutch, and a small multicolored Juicy Couture briefcase. All the accessories were organized by style and material. There were onyx rings, sapphire bracelets, diamond stud earrings, and pieces in silver, rose gold, and titanium. A Tiffany set of a locket, ring, and bracelet caught Mahogany’s eye. She would never admit to liking something so expensive. I said to Mahogany, “ok sweetie, what would you like to try on first?” Mouth open, she replied, “What! What is all this? Honey, I can't.” I caressed her arm and smiled warmly before talking to Anastasia. “She can and she will!” While Mahogany tried on an outfit, Anastasia took measurements, pulled in fabric, and took notes. The silks, cashmeres, and rayons hugged Mahogany’s curves, showed off her gorgeous, long legs, while the earrings made her giggle and smile. I sat in a chair opposite the woman as Mahogany tried her best to find the perfect combination. She matched the shoes to the dress to the accessories to the handbag. Finally, she paired Valentino slingbacks with a black silk Etro dress and the Chanel clutch. She finished off with the diamond studs. She was absolutely glowing by this point. I smiled and asked her if she was sure, she said, “I am if you like it!” I smiled and said, “It will do fine for dinner and drinks tonight. Then I smiled at Anastasia and said, “ I guess you’ll just have to wrap the other stuff up and deliver them to the house.
Mahogany could not believe it. This wasn’t a shopping trip for an outfit; it was a spree! From the boutique, we headed to our next destination, another friend’s place, this time, an art gallery. The Rhisome gallery of African American arts in Bronceeille, to be exact. I told Mahogany she would be choosing a piece from my place, for our place. I wanted her to feel at home in my space. She finally chose a piece by Josea Blanche, a haunting piece of dark greys and blues. The artist depicted a young man walking solemnly towards a pair, and in the distance, a boat, but the viewer couldn't tell whether it was heading towards the pier or away from it. The piece was called ‘Morning Star’. I asked her where she would hang the piece, she said, “in the hall that leads from the door to the front room, so whether you are going or coming, you feel the same sense of peace the young man in the painting feels. I told her that was an excellent choice, then I grabbed her by the waist and kissed her deeply.
On the ride home, Mahogany sat with one leg folded beneath her, her little body turned towards me while I drove. Her unceasing smile of happiness was never-ending, so much so that it creeped me out a bit. Her gaze made me self-conscious, though I knew what was on her mind. We didn't say a word; however, the anticipation was palatable. I sang along to the radio as she continued to stare at me while resting her chin on her hand, which was supported by her elbow. What adream.
I struggled bringing the oversized painting up to the apartment. At the same time, Mahogany did her best with the dresses in the garment bag, the shoes in their own bag, three other bags, her purses, and a myriad of accessories. I finally got the door open, but finding a light switch proved much too complicated. I gave up, set the painting on the floor, and promised to hang it soon. I turned to help my chocolate panda bear set her bags in the bedroom. As the lingerie peered up at us, mahagony smiled, wrapped her arms around my neck, and went to kiss me. They asked, “What's next, lover?” I didn’t smile, not so much as a smirk or a grin, as I removed her arms from my neck and said, “Next, you get into nothing but a towel and meet me in the bathroom.
I had taken painstaking steps to restore this industrial space to my idea of perfection. As for a bathroom, my ideal was a separate shower and bathtub, a dual-sink vanity, and a self-flushing toilet. This required space, so my bathroom alone was over 250 square feet. With the remaining space, I added a comfortable chaise lounge. I found Mahogany seated on the edge of my huge antique claw-foot tub. I was armed with tons of tea light candles, scented candles, a lighter, two flutes, and a bottle of rosé champagne. Music played softly through the speakers that I personally ran throughout the loft, including the bathroom and bedroom. I told my armour to have a seat on the chaise, and after lighting the candles and pouring her champagne, I excused myself and left to get more supplies. Armed with a tub, some scented oils, and a few hand towels, I told Mahagony to relax, lie back, and close her eyes. She did as asked. I placed her feet in warm water in the small tub and rubbed and caressed them. Next, I massaged her calves and ankles. She moaned softly. As the music swayed, I added more warm water and a few drops of essential oil. I touched her thighs and asked, “Do you trust me?” She answered assuringly, “Yes, baby.” That's when she heard the soft murmur of the wet/dry feminine shaver. She involuntarily convulsed in anticipation of the removal of her hair. I touched her legs, reassured her it was ok, and coaxed her to relax. First, with smooth strokes and barely touching her skin, I removed a layer of her hair. Knowing this is a massive step for her, I put on some of her favorite love songs. Before long, I had my hand razor out and was finishing up her legs. Next, I gently removed her above her knee, then her thighs, and finally, I had her step out of the tub so I could dry her feet and legs.
I insisted she keep her eyes closed, and she was not yet permitted to touch her newly shaved legs. I had her lie back on the chaise as I ran a beautiful bubble bath complete with a rubber duckie. With her towel spread open, I then manicured her round with my hand razor and a little foam. Then I draped her towel across her beautiful body and began to remove her fingernail and toenail polish. After her grooming, I helped Mahagony up off the chaise, eyes open, and with candles lining the tub, sink, and counter. She stepped into the bathtub filled with rose petals, bubbles, and, of course, a rubber duck. I reached for an exfoliating sponge and some scented soap, and I began bathing my lady. First, from the shoulders down to her breast, where I paid close attention to her chocolate drop nipples. Then over her shoulder and down her back. As I washed, I kissed all those merely clean spots as if to baptise them back to life. My hands slipped under the water, without the sponge or the soap, and began to rub her legs. The soft, smooth cocoa legs felt so good to me; I lingered there for a while. By the time I caressed her thighs, Mahagony was lying back, neck deep in bubbles, and letting me have my way with her. I could not resist. With her legs spread for me, I inserted a finger inside her and felt my chocolate melt. Then two fingers, and she reached up and pulled my neck until our lips met, my fingers deep inside her, our tongue swirling, and her free hand pushing my finger deeper. After a few minutes, my hand lent my finger some much-needed help and spread to rub her clit while my finger worked its magic. I disembarked just in time to ask Mahagony, “Will you come for me?” and for her to whisper, “I'm already cumming”
After drying her off and replenishing her champagne, Mahagony sat satisfied and deeply relaxed on the chaise. Now she was wearing a silk Kimono robe and again patiently waiting for me, I returned with a small chair and a piece of cardboard under one arm, a manicure set under the other. As the soundtrack from the movie ‘Love Jones ’ played, I painted her fingernails and toenails in a deep burgundy hue, which looked nearly black in the dark but, in light, glittered like the stars in the Orion belt against a cognac-colored backdrop—the perfect colour against her chocolate skin.
With her nails dry, skin oiled and scented by me, clean from her bath, Mahagony was almost too much to take in all at once. I had blown out some of the candles to appreciate how beautiful she is fully. Still, I felt like a fool for not previously making love to this woman every chance I got! A mistake I could not comprehend at the moment, yet one I did not plan to mimic. After taking her in one last time, I cracked the silence with a hoarse voice and was able to eke out, “You asked who the lingerie was for; it’s for the goddess that stands before me, you!”
The brevity of the time between mahogany slipping into the bustier panties and garter until it all came off and we were making love could only be counted in nanoseconds. Love-making that led us to miss our dinner reservations. The reception I’d plan for us with some colleagues for drinks and well into the middle of the night. We ended up in pajamas, t-shirts, and shorts in front of my old restaurant-style 6-burner stove, with me fixing us my version of Asian-inspired street tacos and vodka shots, and talking and laughing on the couch while attempting to watch TV. We fell on the sofa amidst a collage of blankets, throws, and armchair pillows, a sleepover for lovers.
The next couple of days were a blur, between the fucking, food, and alcohol, it was hard to determine what was real and what was us living out a fantasy. We danced in nightclubs, kissed in museums, and made love in clandestine spots all over the city. Considering I’d done almost no work, we decided to attend a function at a sporting event sponsored by a community organization I worked with. It was a night game at Wrigley Field on the north side, so we took the train up. Everyone was charming, and the firm had gotten one of the suits, which worked out well considering the Mahogany had never been to a game. For the first time, I was introducing her as my girlfriend. Nothing we’d talked about or planned, just kinda happened- felt natural. She introduced herself as Sabrina but said everyone called her "babe," a nickname bestowed on her by her maternal grandfather. She said he called his youngest grandchild ‘baby’ until she was about seven, when he shortened it to ‘babe’ after she protested that she was a big girl. Babe was about 5’3” with big brown eyes and skin like coffee with a little too much cream, you know, like a cafe or latte. Her small mouth seemed to hold back fruited breath that's just too damn sweet and juicy to hold in. The fullness of her lips and her stone white teeth seemed to be an impossible fit for such a small, round face, but somehow the most high made it work the only way it could. Babe had the personality that only the beautiful and sexy could get away with. Shit! Right now she’s hitting on the woman, only minutes ago I introduced her as my girlfriend. Who the fuck is this chick?
She is standing at the bar with Mahagony, who looks to be an entire foot taller than her, but I'll be damned if this woman isn't trying to see if her perky C-cups aren't at the same height as Mahagony’s. Her small waist and round ass make quite a striking image on her small frame. At this point, I’m not turned on by Babe, but I’m wondering what in the hell the two of them are talking about. Suddenly, I was back in high school. Two hot chicks were in a corner laughing and pointing fingers at me, yet I had no idea what they were talking about. I sat on my stool, twisting and turning uncomfortably while I held an over-iced, watered-down rum and Coke. By the time Mahagony returned to me, I felt like an idiot; the rest of the party had long moved on to another part of the suite, and I didn’t want to leave my girl with this total stranger. The joke was on me - clearly Babe and Mahagony were well acquainted. By the time my chocolate returned, she was beaming, smiling from ear to ear, and talking incoherently about her new friend. “Slow down, love, what are you saying?” I said to my overexcited lover. Before my lover could catch her breath and clear up the confusion, Babe chimed in, “Hey, Honey! We want to go out tonight. Like dancing and stuff, and we want you to take us” Honey! Wait, what?” I replied, still stuck in a stupor. Babe, ever incredulous, did not miss a beat. “Honey, that’s what we call you, right?” she said this as a matter of fact, as if relying on the fact that my shoes were untied. We all laughed, though mine was one of caution and bewilderment, but we did at least laugh together.
Mahagony, unfazed by any of the events at the ball park, immediately began to put together an outfit of skin-tight leggings, black ballerina flats, and a spaghetti strap top. On the other hand, I had so much trouble picking an outfit as I had wrapping my head around what had just happened. Did we, or she, pick up a chick at a ball game? Were we, or was she, just picked up? This was all so confusing. What was certain was that asking too many questions would not be a good thing. So I decided to throw on some jeans, a button-up shirt, and a blazer, and go with the flow.
We picked Babe up at the Omni Hotel; turns out she was in Chicago for business with the non-profit I was working with. This was the fourth time in the city, but she had never really been out here. She’d only been to business events; this was her first foray into the nightlife. With her hair pulled back fiercely into a bun, the features of her beautiful face were even more pronounced. Her soft brown eyes, full lips, long lashes, and smooth skin came together in perfect symmetry. I couldn't help but wonder where her significant other was or if she was single. Why didn't she ask me to bring a friend? There I go again, overthinking! When I was younger, I could not for the life of me understand why anyone would pay good money to be separated from other people in a club. The dance floor was where the action was, all the women, the bar…. VIP just made no sense. As an adult, a real grown-up, there is no way I’m waiting in line and subjecting myself to standing all night in some dark club- it’s called perspective. Besides, I was with two beautiful women, one of whom I needed to protect from vultures. Secondly, my feet would be killing me after an hour. VIP made Perfect sense!
Security guided us from the front door to the velvet ropes, behind the dance floor, and finally up a few steps to the sequestered VIP or bottle service area. Our hostess was a lovely part-time model named Kan-i. I ordered champagne for myself and vodka with mixers for the ladies. The bottles arrived with full fanfare, beautiful women carrying casks over their heads while fireworks shot from the tops of the bottles. No matter how grown I’d become, the sight of this ritual would never get old to me. The DJ was new to a set, blending 90’s hip hop with current top 40 hits and plenty of electronic dance music. The ladies mostly laughed and giggled to themselves, Babe leaning dangerously close to Mahagony, who seemed enthralled. Occasionally, my chocolate goddess would shoot me a glance and a wink, but mostly I was left to nod and bop to the music by myself. Suddenly, Babe jumps up, grabs Mahogany's hand, and declares that they are going to the dance floor. My eyes must have said what I was thinking- what the fuck! As the smiling woman sashayed past me, Babe reached up and touched my face, and with the most mischievous grin I do believe I’ve ever seen, said, “Honey, I want you to watch us. As a leering smile spread across my face, I was left muttering to myself- What the fuck. They entered the dance floor to Nelly’s ‘Hot in Here’. I could barely make out their forms amongst the sea of writhing bodies. Chicago has always been a city that gravitated towards suggestive dancing. It has never been out of the norm to see two young people dancing pelvic to pelvic. Finally, a small clearing appeared, and I could see Babe’s hot little ass grinding into the thighs of the much taller Mahogany. Mahagony, for her part, ran her hands over Babe’s hips. The two giggled and laughed as they touched and felt each other's bodies to the music's rhythm. I stood at the railing enclosing V.I.P., arms crossed, drinks in hand, wearing a smirk. The ladies danced, and really did, Babe, take me out of her sight; she was watching me to make sure I was watching her. Mahogany focused on Babe, lost in the peace of music.
A few songs later, my gaze has not left the ladies, and Babe’s eyes have not left mine. That all changed when the D.J. played dancehall. The dance floor was cleared for the most part, except for my two enchantresses and a few other island folks. As the Caribbean beat deepened, Babe turned to face Mahagony, who was in full slow wine mode. The dancing went from suggestive to outright grinding. Now neither lady paid me nor anyone else in the club any mind. Babe’s legs intertwine with Mahagony’s long, sexy legs on the outside while she holds on to her hips and curves her back until one of Mahagony’s legs is between hers. Then it happened….. Mahagony reached down, without missing a beat, and scooped Babe’s face in her hands and kissed her deeply. Not only did Babe not resist, but she also moved her tongue hungrily inside my woman’s mouth. Time seemed to stand still. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing; it was so sensual, so sexy. Before it really started, it was over. Like a pack of hyenas, motherfuckers from everywhere threatened to overtake the women. I snapped from my gaze and motioned to the security just outside of V.I.P. He was likely in a trance himself, and I had to command him in an irritated voice, “Go get them, please!”
Now safe and sound back in bottle service, I smile as I hid the girls, “ya’ll are crazy, sit ya’ll butts down and have a drink. Babe saurtered right over to meunperterbed, placed her hands on my hips and looked up at me with those big doe eyes andasked “did you like what you saw?” what could i say except “yeah, i like it” then she darted off to pour a drink and look at me smiling before saying “goood”. I thought to myself, I don't know when, or under what circumstances, but one day I will be spanking her on that perfect little ass, and she will enjoy it.
For the rest of the night, the ladies danced on our side of the velvet rope, primarily for my benefit. In a rare quiet moment, Mahagony alide over to me and asked, “How are you, honey? Having a good time?” I smiled at her and said, “hell yeah.” She kissed me, and I could taste her chocolate mixed with Babe’s mango flavours; it was delightful. She squeezed my ass and squeeled, then she was off for another drink. The DJ announced last call, people made their way to the door, and unceremoniously, the lights came on. A guy I knew from a previous life saw me and came to talk. Mahagony and Babe waited patiently at first, then asked if I could get the car for them and told me they didn't want the night to end. “Honey, can we get breakfast?” Mahagony asked, and I nodded in agreement, signaling to security to have the car brought around.
Amazingly, we sat, all three of us, at one of those all-night diners that club goers frequently visit at 4 am. We didn't talk at all about what had transpired at the club. Mahagony sat next to me, and Babe across from us. The conversation was lively, and we found out that Babe grew up in North Carolina, went to school in Boston, and really thought that she didn't like Chicago, until tonight, that is. Our food arrived, and we mostly picked over the offerings. While continuing to talk, Babe took her utensils and cut herself a piece of my French toast and a portion of Mahagony’s egg white omelet. As we both looked at her, she looked at us quizzically and said, “What! You guys don’t mind, do you?” We all burst out laughing.
At around 6 am, we dropped Babe off in front of the Omi Hotel. Before hopping out, she thanked us both for a wonderful time. Mahagony and I both assured her that the pleasure was all ours; neither of us could stop smiling, so the babe offered, or instead demanded, that we see each other again. We agreed to talk after we got a few hours' sleep. Babe sat up in her seat in the SUV I rented for the night and said, “Awesome. Goodnight, guys.” She then pulled Mahagony in for a very worthwhile French kiss before exiting the vehicle. I looked at mahogany as Babe walked around the car, and she shrugged her shoulders and smiled. Before I could determine how I felt about the kiss, babe popped up at my driver's side window saying, “You didn't think I’d forgotten about you, Honey?” and proceeded to kiss me slowly, softly, and super passionately. Then she turned towards the hotel entrance and tossed a goodbye over her shoulder like it was a grenade. Holy shit!
The next morning turned into the afternoon by the time Mahagony and I opened the blinds and let the sunshine in to the loft. Though we were both starving, neither of us dared to try to introduce the idea of food into our awakening, so we decided to take a bath together and relax on the couch. Her in her lace panties and my button- up shirt, me in basketball shorts and a V-neck T-shirt. We configured my ensemble couch until it resembled an oversized bed in front of the 65” television. We watched a lot of nothing, talked about it all, and took in as much water as either of us could stand. What we didn't discuss was the previous night and most of the Spitfire known as Babe. I’m not really sure why, maybe we thought she was an aberration, a once-in-a-lifetime comet, or someone just trying to blow off a little steam. All in all, unspoken, just this hot secret with a sexy ass woman that we’d always share. As we lay underneath way too many covers, legs intertwined, my phone rang. I was a little shocked as I was not expecting a call, nor was I really in the mood to talk, yet I answered.
me: hello Babe: Hey, honey! What are you guys up to? Me: absolutely nothing. Trying to recover Babe: I know, right? Hey, I have a good remedy. Me: Oh yeah. We’re down to try just about anything. Babe, so when are you guys coming to pick me up? Me: Ummmm. Huh? Babe: Get me, Honey. I miss you guys. At this time, I’m pointing at the phone, and Mahagony is staring at me. I had no clue what to say, I’m standing in gym shorts and a t-shirt with my lady encouraging me to answer our new paramour. Me: Ummm. I’ll send a car for you right now. How soon will you be ready? Babe: Silly, I’ve been ready all morning, I was waiting on you guys to call. I’ll see you guys soon. Bye. -Click
“Sweetie, Babe’s on her way! I don't know what just happened, but I think she just invited herself over. A smiling Mahagony answered, “I think you're right. But that's what we want, right?” I certainly wanted to see her again. I guess I thought it would be more formal, like a dinner date, dinner for three, or something, somewhere fancy. I was a nervous wreck. I began cleaning up the house, I put on a tracksuit, and encouraged Mahagony to get dressed- she ignored me. I continued to clean. When the doorbell rang, I was cleaning the bathroom. Mahagony answered the door wearing little more than my shirt, so I hoped like hell that was Babe at the door and not one of my relatives. The alert on my phone let me know it was indeed Babe. I could hear their greeting, which was loud, lots of squealing voices, and then silence. I paid little attention, I continued with cleaning until I heard Babe’s voice, “Honey, can you come out here and say hello to me? fuck that bathroom, clean it later.
I paid no mind to the prodding and admonitions by the ladies; I had to finish sprucing up. By the time I emerged and entered the kitchen, I was met by the sight of Mahagony in my stark white business shirt and legs that went on for days, and Babe in a baby blue t-shirt and white poly-rayon panties that she made, somehow someway, sexy as fuck. They were making mugs of hot chocolate with whipped cream and Malibu rum. Babe emerged from behind the counter, wrapped her arms around my neck, and pulled me into a full embrace. I felt myself harden. I tried to hide it, but she wouldn't let me.
We sat up on the couch, blankets covering us from the waist down, sipping gigantic mugs of spiked hot chocolate. I had to admit the concoction was knocking the hanks off. We watched Comedy Central and told each other goofy jokes. We shared stories from our childhood and spoke about the shortcomings of past relationships. I talked about the differences and similarities between military life and prison. Hours passed, and we finally settled into a group cuddle. I spooned Mahogany, and Babe wrapped her legs around mine. She put her hand under my t-shirt and rubbed my back. It all felt so good, so natural, so much so that we nodded off- all 3 of us. Somewhere between semi-consciousness and sleep wafted for some undetermined amount of time. Not sure if my dreams were thoughts or vice versa, the thoughts came and left just as quickly. Should I open a new office? Who’d be a good candidate to help me build a website? Maybe I should work out more. How delicious would it be to awaken Mahogany by tasting her chocolate…. At that last thought, I felt my groin stir. Then my mind was flooded with types of erotic thoughts. I felt myself thicken and then grow; this warm glow covered my entire body, but I was no longer dreaming because I thought of the weight of my lover on my parted thighs. As the longingness dissipated, I heard Mahogany’s voice, “I told you this is the best way to wake him. I could feel myself growing stronger in Babe’s skillful mouth. She took me all in and used her hand only to guide me in and out. I didn't even bother to open my eyes; I let the sounds of her pleasing me and Mahogany’s cooing take me to a wonderful place. “I want it inside me,” I heard babe say in a low husky voice that didn't really sound like her. It was only a few seconds before she was on top of me. I groped her hips and steadied her. I could feel her hand guide me inside; it was exactly as I thought it would feel, except somehow more glorious. She was tight and wet, warm and soft. She slowly rode me at first. I licked my lip and tried not to smile. I felt so damn good, but somehow Babe seemed to be feeling better than me, as if they had been peened before even starting with me. I’d find out later that she and Mahagony had decided to make me a late entry to the festivities.
Babe placed her small hands on my chest and glided slowly and hard into me. She moved with delight as she closed her eyes and said, “Oh, honey, shit, yes, daddy.” A few moments later, she lay on my chest and let me take her all the way there. First, her body tensed, and I felt her muscles contract, then…. she lay on top of me motionless. Her orgasm had exhausted her. I’m not sure I've ever felt more alive in my life than when I opened my eyes and saw Mahogany lying next to Babe, with her hand between her legs. Clearly, she enjoyed what she saw. I rolled Babe over to her side, and she watched in anticipation, and I stalked Mahogany. I was a wolf in search of the deepest, darkest chocolate.
My initial thought was to climb on top of her and fuck her brains out, at least that how my body wanted to react. I slid between her thighs, kissing them in inches as I made my way up to her haven. I glide my finger over her dripping wet clit and massage it as a light moan escaped her lips, she arched her back, and I pulled my finger away and put my finger in Babe’s mouth. As she sucks Mahogany’s juice from my finger, I take what’s mine. I lick from her inner thighs to her wetness, stroking her slowly with my tongue while sucking her in intervals. She held my head in place as she whined on my tongue. I felt her flow getting heavier, so i suck her harder. Mahogany tends to run when she has reached her climax so i used my hands to hold her in place. as i lick her, payimg close attention to her most sensitive asset i could feel her slipping away, “love, honey, im cuming” she said in a high pitchedyet soothing voice, few moments later she exploded and i cleaned up the evidence. I then slid inside her slowly, mahogany’s eyes widened, and she held her breath until every inch of me was inside her. We made love rhythmically, slow and whining, moving in unison, with perfect timing. Our eyes open, I wanted her to know just how happy she made me.
I could feel her breath becoming more shallow, I could feel her heart beat quicken, her back arched, and her eyes roll back in her head. I heard that familiar panting, those moans that sang to me the sweetest songs. I whispered to her, “Tell me. Tell me, my love.” She screamed, “I’m coming, honey, I’m coming,” and simultaneously gave me complete access to her as she opened her legs wider. Then she felt my body shatter as I released my love deep inside her. She wrapped her gloriously long legs around my waist and pulled me into her. Then we collapsed.
The three of us lay in a heap, dehydrated, hungry, and sex dazed. The girls laughed to themselves about something, and I tried my best to get my earrings. My mind drifted to a shower for three. ‘Is my shower big enough?’ I thought to myself. Babe calls out, “I’m hungry!” Mahogany said, “Me too. I knew that was my cue, “so I guess ya’ll want me to cook?” In unison, I heard, “Yes, please!” I laughed and said, “damn. Ok. So what do ya’ll want?” Babe playfully jumped on top of me and said with a mischievous smile, “French Toast.